


02. A Letter To Santa

by YlvaUllsdotter



Series: SPN Advent Calendar 2018 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Advent Calendar, Angst, Dean x Reader established relationship, F/M, christmas theme, mention of John Winchester - Freeform, mention of Mary's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 17:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YlvaUllsdotter/pseuds/YlvaUllsdotter
Summary: Dean did a good job of hiding his feelings yesterday, but you know him well enough to have picked up on them anyway. You approach him about it and he opens up and tells you a story.





	02. A Letter To Santa

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [@notfunnydean](https://notfunnydean.tumblr.com/)’s SPN Advent Calendar. December 2.

You left Sam with the small group of hunters in the map room and went in search of Dean. While he had made an effort to involve himself more with the new hunters, he still felt like his home had been invaded by strangers and spent as much time as possible in the garage or in some out of the way nook by himself. Not that you blamed him. The Bunker had been home to only the three of you, four if you counted Castiel, for years and to suddenly have it overflowing with strangers was unsettling at times.

You found Dean in one of the lesser used storerooms, apparently organizing spell ingredients. He had left the door open, as a sign that he was not actively trying to avoid anyone while doing just that. 

“Hey, Dean,” you greeted him as you closed the door behind you.

“Hey,” he glanced up only long enough to see that it was you, before going back to his sorting. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to spend some time with my boyfriend, away from everyone else,” you slipped your arms around him from behind, leaning your cheek against his back, feeling the hard tension in his muscles against you.

Dean snorted softly in response. He had made his feelings clear, to you and Sam at least, so he remained silent.

You could hear his heartbeat where your ear was pressed against him and for a few moments you just stood still and enjoyed feeling him close to you while he continued moving things around and making notes on a piece of paper.

“Dean?” your voice sounded almost sleepy.

“Hm?”

“I want to ask you something, but I’m afraid it might be something you don’t want to talk about,” you explained.

Dean stopped his sorting and turned around, placing his arms around your shoulders. His green eyes sought yours and searched your soul.

“You know everything about me, baby, so whatever it is, just ask me.”

You moved half a step back so you could see his face clearly. 

“It was something I noticed yesterday. You seemed...guarded, I guess is the word. About the whole Christmas thing, I mean.”

Dean huffed and almost rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, you know how I feel about Christmas, and you know why. My dad-,” Dean started, but you interrupted him.

“Yeah, your dad, I know. But it’s not just that, is it? I saw the way you kept looking at Sam and Cass. It was like you were trying to keep up appearances to let them be happy, but you were still holding back,” you tried to explain the feeling you had gotten the day before. “There’s something else there. Please, will you tell me?”

While you were talking, Dean had turned his face away from you, his gaze directed over your head. The lines on his forehead stood out as his expression became thoughtful. You waited patiently, hoping he would open up to you about whatever it was. 

Finally, he spoke up again, still not looking at you.

“I’ve never told anyone this. It’s hard for me to even think about. But I guess you have a right to know,” he started. He paused and took a deep breath, then looked down into your eyes. “You’re right, I did look to Sammy, and Cass too. As long as I can remember, I’ve always put Sam before myself. Dad didn’t even have to tell me, it was just a fact of life for me. Protect Sammy.”

You nodded slightly to encourage him to go on when he paused.

“I stopped believing in Santa before I turned five. I was four when mom died. I didn’t speak for months after. But at the beginning of December, I wrote a letter to Santa, asking him to bring my mom back. That was all I asked for, just to have mom back with us. Because dad was a shadow of himself-,” Dean stopped and drew a shaky breath, blinking back tears.

With your arms still around his waist, you gave him a little squeeze for reassurance, not wanting to speak yet.

“I was so scared, Y/N. I was only four, but I had to take care of my baby brother because dad had retreated into himself. He was supposed to be there to tell me it would be ok, but instead, he buried himself in musty old books and whiskey, and I didn’t know what to do. So I asked Santa to bring mom back so dad would go back to being the big strong guy he had always been, the dad that could protect us from anything. I wanted everything to go back to the way it was,” Dean’s voice trembled with emotion, a single tear escaping and rolling down his cheek.

“I snuck out of the house where we were staying and put the letter in the mailbox down the street. I spent three weeks hoping, dreaming, fantasizing about how dad would be happy when mom came back. But of course, she didn’t. Christmas came and went and dad just retreated further into himself. He drank too much, and he barely looked at me, or Sammy. I guess that was really when I lost my innocence,” Dean finished, almost angrily wiping the traitorous tear off his face and sniffing.

You reached up and kissed his lips softly, just a peck really.

“Thank you for telling me, Dean,” you whispered, hugging him close. There was nothing you could say that would make the past go away, but you silently vowed to yourself that Dean would never have to feel that helpless again.


End file.
